What Should Santa Bring You?
by Operatic
Summary: Oneshot, AC fluff. Could she really still believe in the fat man?


((Yay Christmas!Sap! We all need a good sap every now and again. This has zero plot, hooray! I don't own RENT. Oh, and I know Angel wouldn't be alive for another Christmas with Collins...this is AU :P Angel, I love ya honey, but you make writing holiday fics very inconveniant, you know that?))

"So…what do you want me…ah... Santa to bring you?"

Angel raised an eyebrow and tilted her head up, trying her best to keep it on his shoulder (no easy task, she soon found). He winked at her, feet on the small, crappy old coffee table in front of the couch, his arm holding her close, giving her that smile of his that she loved, the one where she saw all of his teeth. She smiled.

"Oh, honey…you know you don't have to get me a damn thing. You're enough," she interrupted herself to kiss the side of his jaw firmly…he was always making her do that. Or she was doing that, because of him…either way it was his fault, and there was no reason whatsoever to apologize.

"As for Santa though…" Angel started again, her face changing from loving to dead serious. "That boy owes me big. Every year I leave him a list, and he skips over it every time! Maybe if we got a chimney in here…think we could install a chimney before Christmas, baby?"

Collins' eyes widened slightly, his mouth full of cheap chocolate mixture and hot water that, while not terrible, just wasn't hot chocolate. He would've expected something like this from Angel...at Easter, she'd dressed in big, poofy, swirly pastel colours, and had insisted they had an Easter egg hunt. All in all it was a disaster. Joanne refused to play. Maureen pouted when she couldn't find anything. Roger spent most of his time pelting the small candies at Mark (who was really only participating so he wouldn't feel the wrath of a drag queen). But, she'd been ecstatic the whole time, joking to the spoilsports that the Easter bunny was gonna leave coal in their baskets the next year. She didn't believe a word of it, but she had the best time out of all of them. That was his girl, though…swirly and crazy and sexy and innocent, with an imagination so large that it almost bordered on ignorance…but it was the most endearing thing about her. Completely and utterly perfect.

But this…she was serious. She almost seemed angry at the illusion…and he cringed at the thought of being the one to tell her that it was, in fact, simply an illusion, a game parents played with their children to build up the excitement of Christmas. And a game that corporations twisted and manipulated to make Christmas one of the most disgusting, greedy shopping times in the whole year…but that was different. That wasn't the Santa Claus that Angel left letters to, that was for sure. His girl hated corporate America nearly as much as he did. It simply wouldn't be in character for Angel to love a mall Santa…it was obvious that she, like many children and the very rare adult, was in love with the Santa with a cherry nose and the belly like a bowl full of jelly. And as cute as that made her…he couldn't bear letting her be disappointed another Christmas. He could try to play the role usually played by a parent, signing Santa's name on a present for her…but she'd know. If he knew Angel, and he believed he did…she'd know. She acted the ditz some times—but she wasn't stupid.

"Ang…I don't know how to tell you this…" Collins paused. This would be so much easier if she wasn't staring at him, her large dark eyes fixed on his face. "You…you know Santa's not really…real…don't you?"

Angel's eyes darkened, and he inwardly groaned. Her bottom lip quivered slightly…and formed into a small pout.

"What did you say?" she asked in a whisper, her eyes wide as she simply stared him down. Damn…she could do whatever she wanted when she simply stared at him, and she knew it. "Santa is too real. How dare you even say something like that?"

"Baby, I'm sorry…" Collins began, his stomach down at his knees. Was she really mad at him…? She was never mad at him…and over something as silly as this? He was suddenly panicking…Angel being angry with him simply wouldn't do. He'd fake the name…but screw it, he refused to ruin the illusion for her. Only a rare few still believed in things like that at her age…the luckier ones, he thought. What the hell was he thinking? "If you want to believe in him, don't let me stop…you…" the anarchist trailed off as he heard small giggles coming from his lover.

"You actually believed I thought…oh honey," Angel shook her head, and Collins sighed with relief…before placing his mug on the table and gripping her waist, pulling her into his lap. The drag queen squealed, her arms hooking around his neck.

"You, Miss Schunard, are very mean," Collins muttered, kissing her gently as she laughed, resting against him. "You got me all worked up for nothing, I hope you know."

"Sorry, baby…but it was too fun to resist," she winked at him, her head moving back to its spot against his shoulder. "I never believed in Santa, really…Papi wouldn't hear of it. We learned from a very early age that Christmas was to celebrate Jesus, and nothing more," Angel rolled her eyes, wagging her finger and deepening her voice to imitate her oh so loving father. "We got those calendars too, you know, the ones with the chocolate? Only ours had bible verses. Here but for the grace of God go I, great, but can I eat it?" She laughed, and he had to grin as he rubbed her side…typical Angel. "It is a nice thought to have though...Santa...I used to pretend it was true," she sighed, but quickly smiled again. "Anyway…you're not mad at me, are you?"

Collins smiled deeply and kissed her forehead, almost cradling her against him. How could he be mad? Even of he tried, she'd give him a simple look, or cuddle into his chest, and he'd forget anything he could be angry about. And his own name, and anything he was about to say, and anything besides the fact that she was the most important thing in his life.

"I'm not mad at you, Angel," he whispered, stroking her cheek gently. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes soft, a small smile on her face, before perking up.

"Great! Anyway, you never told me…when'd you learn Jolly Old Saint Nick wasn't exactly what you thought, anyway?" she looked at him expectantly, and Collins couldn't hide the smirk that came to his face. He wasn't exactly as much of an actor as her…but he couldn't resist teasing her.

"You mean…he isn't real? What do you mean he isn't real?!"

The drag queen rolled her eyes and tilted his knit cap down the side of his face, taking a swig of his chocolate mixture and hot water as he fumbled to fix it. Red glitter remained on the rim, and he made a point not to wipe it off.


End file.
